Gambling On A Season
by Finale Di Amore
Summary: "The only salvation was to dismember each other entirely. I think we may have lost a few pieces that autumn, but we got a piece of each other, I always thought that would be enough, maybe I was wrong." It's about the coffee he never paid for and the cigarettes he stole from my back pocket. Then again, I guess I owed him.


Life can be monotonous, weeks can blend into months and suddenly you're twenty three working in a coffee shop. Not financially responsible enough to afford the apartment above that you sleep in, you've learned the hard way just how much money could buy. Long has it been since you've cast aside childish ideals, because ideals would only ever be ideals. There were no movie moments, and if there were they wouldn't be in the lives of lowly drop outs, drying cheap china behind a counter every night until two am.

People in the customer service industry like to say "you meet all kinds of people." Axel disagreed. It wasn't a busy night, they were hardly ever busy, but the brawny trucker, swollen head stuffed in a hat that fit so snug he was certain some circulation must have been lost made him wish that he really met anyone in his job. A transaction of a few bills and coins traded off for a large cup of coffee and a bagged sandwich-that was it. No unnecessary words were offered besides the same small talk he repeated infinitely throughout the day. He didn't meet people, he really just saw them. He didn't know their names, and he wasn't required a name tag. They were perfect strangers. Another year has passed by and its fall, he has to sweep crumbling leaves out of the door way every morning and night, every gust of wind through an open door decorated the linoleum floor with dirty shoe prints and dead foliage.  
He ended up buying a new mop with his own money; the old one had long since turned a disgusting, speckled, near black, shredded mess. He's worked there for three years. Nothing ever got replaced.

Axel didn't believe in ideals, he believed in the cancer in his lungs and the smell of his cheap cologne on his sheets. He did not believe in ideals.  
Axel didn't believe in movie moments, he believed in the way he had to drag his long limbs out of bed, the chill that shot up his spine when his bare feet met the cold hard wood. He believed in the way it required more effort every day just to walk down the stairs and stand behind a counter.  
Axel didn't believe you could know someone, he didn't even know himself.

He wasn't content, but he would never outwardly complain. He had gotten what he wanted, what he gambled on. He had a roof over his head and a job that required minimal effort and interaction. He made enough money to eat, smoke, and drink and whatever else he wanted.  
If he didn't have enough money he had piercings green eyes, sinfully thin hips and the kind of smile that made girls bite their lips to stifle a gasp.

He never put much effort into his look on the day to day basis despite that. Ripped dark jeans and some T-shirt he's probably owned since high school untameable red mane tied just above the nape of his neck.

It was autumn and the heater had once again crapped out on him. In a fit of rage he kicked the thing just as the bell above the door chimed a greeting. Straightening his spine, still muttering under his breath about how likely it would be for him to freeze to death in winter he made his way back to his post behind the register, well-practiced friendly smile falling onto his face. "What can I get you?" He trailed off, head tilting down to meet the height of his apparent patron, almost a foot shorter than himself. 

Pushing a few unruly blond strands of hair from his face the small frame of a teenage boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Can I uhh.." He dug into his pocket pulling out a few coins and some pocket lint. He looked down at his hands for a moment with pursed lips, as if it would make more money appear. It was true that the kid didn't even have enough for a coffee.

"Have a seat." Axel tapped at the bar, indicating to a stool that hadn't been used in so long it had probably gathered dust. People usually sat at tables near the window if they weren't taking out. The boy seemed to hesitate for a moment before lifting himself into a stool that was just slightly too tall for him.

"Do you like coffee?" Axel called over his shoulder pulling a mug off shelf above the coffee machines, beginning to fill it even before the sheepish nod of blonde spikes. Axel grabbed a sugar dispenser from further down the bar; sliding them both to the blonde that seemed to be entranced by the way his skin could be picked from his fingers. Blinding florescent lighting aside the kid didn't look too great. His honey gold spikes looked like they'd gone a day too long unwashed, his face reflecting the same oily complexion.  
Silence engulfed the room for fifteen minutes, every second ticked by with an echo. The only patron kept his head down sipping steadily at his coffee, which he hadn't sweetened. Axel went about his usual business of tidying before closing, once pacing back to the heater glaring at it with a hand on his hips.  
It was going to be a cold winter.

There was no one else in the diner, and when the boy left he would close for the night, even the road outside seemed desolate, and the howling wind was cold. A late night talk show played on a small t.v. propped on a counter behind the bar. Axel turned the volume up, unsettled by the silence, studio laughter breathing artificial life that didn't quite comfort him. Axel had absentmindedly forgotten about the blonde as he took stock, cleaned coffee pots, and prepared for the next day. He was only reminded of his presence when he set an empty mug on the table with a heavy hand. Turning to face him was the first time Axel had really seen his face. He looked young, and somehow vulnerable, but Axel figured that had more to do with the cliché of his honey hair and icy blue eyes, tired and slightly dilated they were the type of eyes that poets wrote about, but Axel was not a poet and he did not believe it was realistic.  
Even if he repeated that to himself now, Axel had never been startled by someone's face before. He'd never seen someone whose features stood out more than his own, and after a while, people started to look the same.  
_"There's a first time for everything"_ The talk show host laughed, and Axel wanted to crawl through the T.V. like he was Samora and punch the man in his jilted jaw.

He wasn't startled by the blonde, and he hadn't been staring. At least not intentionally.  
"Are you Irish?" It took a moment of sluggish blinking, before he was able to cock his head to the side with a shrug.  
"Maybe" Grabbing the mug from in front of the blond and depositing it in the sink.  
"Your hair is really red. I thought Irish people had red hair." The voice was barely audible, blending into the background before reaching around the counter. Axel could hear him sliding from the stool and walking out the door. He found it difficult to keep his eyes on the rag and mug in his hands, instead of turning to the retreating figure of another stranger. When the door clicked shut he placed the mug on the shelf just an inch over his head, adjusting it to the millimetre so its handle stuck out at the exact angle of every other piece of china, carefully aligned by his own hands. He licked his lips and hesitated before pulling out his wallet and turning to the cash register, placing a single dollar bill in the machine.

The man who owned the diner was a reserved but kind retired man. Axel had began living and working in establishment outside of town three years ago, the owner who used to manage the three person staff retired after coming into money, leaving Axel as the night time manager, and conveniently he was usually the only person that worked nights. He started at four, there in time for the mild rush, by eight Demyx and Xion were both gone, leaving him to the few if any truckers and stragglers that passed by. 

Axel was back at behind the bar at quarter to four, looking at Demyx's algebra homework with a display of abject horror. "What the hell are they teaching you kids?" He gladly redirected his attention to a woman walking through the door, taking her order with a hard look at Demyx efficiently telling him to get off his ass.  
"You're not that much older than me, man." There was an obvious pout to his voice but Axel ignored it, holding the store's copy of the receipt in front of the dirty blondes face. "Do your job."  
Demyx shrugged away, mumbling something about pretentious redheads under his breath, to which Axel reprimanded his choice of words.

Rush lasted from five to six thirty, after which Demyx sighed, throwing a bag over his shoulder, leaving early on the pretense of exams and college applications looming above him. Axel didn't envy that feeling. Not really, he didn't like the pressure. Pressure broke weak men, and he had proven to be a weak man.

The round, generic clock that hung on the wall above the side window was inching towards eleven pm. Axel had resolved to clean all the dishes, Saturday night live playing almost inaudibly in the background and wondered if it had been long enough for him to take another smoke break. He decided it had been, there hadn't been a customer in over an hour, and regular customers had all long since retired to the warmth of their homes. He had to grab his sweater from around the corner; the temperature seemed to have been steadily declining throughout the day and currently settled with short icy gusts of wind leaving fingers pale and shaking within moments.

Axel was leaning against the wall, long legs crossed at the knee's, thin black sweater and ripped jeans providing little cover against the hostile cold. In an attempt to keep some warmth he wrapped his arm around his ribs, tucking his fingers under his arm. His other hand lingered, the burning ember of a cigarette glowing between his fingers, in front of his lips. It was through the billowing thick blue-grey smoke he pushed from his lungs that he saw the obscured form of the blonde a second time.

"Those things will kill you" He seemed more lively, pulling out a pack of his own.  
"Pots and kettles" Axel murmured around the small cylinder, scrutinizing the blonde. He stood comically short, though Axel himself was propped on such long limbs he sometimes felt dizzy looking down. The teenager cursed, cold-numbed fingers fumbling with a cheap convenience store lighter until Axel pulled out his own, flicking it in front of the others face. The blonde muttered thanks as he sucked on the stick, exhaling a massive cloud of smoke directly up into the redheads face.  
He definitely seemed livelier.

Axel pulled out his second-third?-cigarette, before pocketing his lighter. He always said he had to quit. He was always telling himself all the things he needed to quit doing, but he would never do it.  
The blonde seemed content to fall into silence brows knit into a glare aimed at the cracked cement beneath his feet that were, much to Axel's amusement disproportionately large.

Axel flicked his cigarette before the kid and headed back into the diner, the door didn't get a chance to shut before he was followed. He sat at the same stool as last time, and Axel felt confident to pour him another black coffee.

"You don't have a name tag." He didn't seem much inclined to social pleasantries, content instead with abrupt statements and questions. Axel felt content to entertain him, he had the fleeting thought that maybe he was meeting someone, but it was gone before the coffee clinked against the granite bar.

"We're not a corporation so there isn't much need." With only three employee's and all the cliental that being a diner on the outskirts of a small town, planted between a country road and a highway brought they didn't really need many things.  
"My name's Axel." He tacked on as an afterthought. The blonde stiffened, lips pressing into a line before folding behind pearly white teeth. With a hint of guilt and a renewed cheer Axel pushed himself away from the bar, making a beeline to the kitchen door.  
"What do you want to eat then, kid?" He called hanging by the door frame, grinning ear to ear.  
The kid shrugged, fidgeting in the too-tall stool. "A muffin, I guess. Blueberry."

Axel didn't know what he expected of the boys eating habits. Something he had learned from his job was that people had all sort of strange eating habits. The blonde boy seemed to like flipping his food upside down before picking it into pieces, eating the small ones first. Axel hadn't meant to stare, but the way the boys brows had furrowed in utter concentration as he tried to determine which of two pieces were smaller was too much for him to deal with.

Axel laughed through his nose, an ugly snort before letting out a whoop of laughter. Blue eyes peered up through thick golden lashes, visibly confused before they steeled, glaring daggers at the waiter hugging his ribs as he tried to catch his breath.

"What?" He snapped at the taller male who was bent over, holding himself up by the bar.  
"You realize it's all going to be broken down into _shit_ literal _shit_ right kid?"

The blondes face flushed, jaw locking shut as he blatantly ignored the redhead, sipping at his coffee instead. Axel shook his head, the last of his laughter dissolving as he turned back to the t.v. in the corner.  
"You're not that much older than me you know?" Hands froze on the way to the remote, falling to his sides. Everyone seemed to be saying that today. He ran a hand through red locks, casting a practiced smile towards the blonde before busying his hands rinsing coffee mugs. He opened his mouth to argue or agree, to force words out of his cigarette strained closing throat but the blonde broke the silence. He placed the mug down with an empty thud pushing back his stool, scratching it against white speckled tiles. "I'm Roxas." Axel thought it sounded like he was talking into his hand, his voice slightly muffled and just a little too soft for it not to feel like he'd missed something. Axel didn't have a chance to reply, black sneakers that had barely began showing the telltale signs of usage lead the blonde back into the unforgiving fall night. Once again, Axel didn't look back until he placed four dollar bills in the cash register.

The next night Axel kept an ear open, but certainly not for a near-stranger. Someone had robbed a convenience store in town (not that it was uncommon, that particular store had been robbed so many times Axel was convinced it was an insurance scam.) Axel was merely being cautious, that was all.  
He started running out of excuses for the way his ears strained for the sound of the bell's chime signaling a late night customer.  
He had run out of dishes to re-wash, coffee machines to clean and grills to scrape by two am, but he still kept the door unlocked and all the lights on.

He sat behind the bar with the T.V. on eyes scanning a worn copy of a library's book until three before he looked up at the clock and began shutting down the store one light switch at a time. 

On the train tracks that ran along the empty fields across the road, brilliant red rimmed baby blues watched as darkness consumed a diner in the middle of the night, illuminating lights diffused, it was left nothing but a shadow in a vast darkness, and Roxas was left with nowhere to go but home.

Axel didn't see Roxas for again for two weeks.


End file.
